


At last

by erde



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erde/pseuds/erde
Summary: All Steve wants is to hold Tony's hand.





	At last

There are still pockets of smoke speckling the pavement, but the danger is past. Little by little, people emerge from their makeshift shelters, dodging the holes in the ground and the small piles of debris, going on with their lives. A few look up, wave at them. Steve, perched on a ledge a few stories up, returns the greeting.

"A good day's work," Tony says, taking a seat next to him. From up close, the scratches on his suit have become actual dents, an inch shy of permanent.

Steve considers the state of his own uniform and lets out a puff of air. "So I hear."

"Coffee?" Tony asks, procuring a paper bag seemingly out of thin air, and Steve chuckles because isn't that funny, the idea of Tony standing in line and getting them drinks while he's donning his full armor, except that he must have picked their order as he flew by, always in style.

There's still cleanup on their to-do list, so Steve accepts the offer. In the sunset light, Tony's suit is fire red, his eyes a shade of brown warmer than usual. They can hear the street sounds below, but it's quiet otherwise, comfortable.

It isn't the first time they sit in companionable silence, basking in each other's presence after a somewhat challenging mission, just letting the world fade around them as they take five. As usual, the analysis of the battle and the resulting fine-tuning of everyone's training exercises will be necessary, but all of that will come later. For now, at least, Steve has everything he needs.

He still wants to hold Tony's hand.

He isn't sure whether this is one tidbit of information Tony is privy to or not. It seems to be yet another thing both of them know but never quite mention, secure in what their bond means to each other. But the truth is that they have never defined what this is, not in actual words, not in the way you do with tactics and plans for a better future, each detail precise because their line of work demands it so. 

He has carried Tony in his arms, held onto him, and cradled his head to protect him from a blast, yet the idea of this small gesture, Tony's fingers threaded with his own, makes his heart race. It would have been deliberate, so much more than the lingering touches they shared here and there, and the smiles that followed them. Shared secrets, sweet nothings.

Steve squares his shoulders. If he does this now, he won't feel the warmth of Tony's skin, but his faceplate is open and Steve will be able to gauge his reaction, see if it's welcome. He wants to think that it would be, knowing Tony as he does. But Tony Stark, known for facing danger headlong, has never suggested, in all the years he has known him—

"Ready?" Tony asks, arching an eyebrow. 

It takes a minute for Steve to realize what he means. Not _that,_ of course. He nods, wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders and letting Tony hold his waist. The wind rushes past them as they go, and if Tony smiles at him like he always does, making Steve feel warm all over, well, he doesn't read more into it for now and smiles back.

 

 

It isn't a date. Tony had merely said there was this new restaurant he wanted to try, had insisted that Steve would like it, and Steve, pretending that he wasn't eyeing him over the most recent issue of Futura, had said, teasing, "Not the kind that needs a waiting list, then?"

There was a little smirk drawn on Tony's lips, playful and only a touch smug. Below that, expectation. Steve knew how to tell the difference. He kept an inventory of Tony's smiles on him at all times.

"Only because it's _me,_ " Tony had replied.

The restaurant turns out to be on the smallish side, a little trendy yet cozy. There are string lights strewn outside covering the patio, and Steve sketches the details in his mind, the animated conversation a few tables to their right and the swish of wine on clinking glasses and the swirls of sauce decorating his side dish. Tony notices. He always does when Steve's attention slips like this. It's something he does once on a while, drinking in his surroundings as if he were seeing it all for the first time.

"Just surveying the place," Steve says, clearing his throat. "Reconnaissance."

Tony laughs at that and Steve doesn't even regret the white lie. He loves how warm is the sound. "Most people just take pictures of their food and post them to Instagram."

"I'm not—" Steve starts, trying to say one of the following things just to pull his leg: 'a tech whiz,' 'aware of what's popular among youngsters these days,' 'even sure what _an_ instagram is.'

"—most people," Tony says fondly. "I know."

Tony's fingertips are drumming the table at odd intervals, a pattern of sounds made duller against the mantelpiece, and all Steve wants is to wrap his hand around his, to brush the ridges of his knuckles, to bring him calm. It's their moment. Tony's eyes are soft and bright.

A single beep is enough to break the spell. Avengers business.

 

 

Today, Steve wakes up earlier than usual. In reality, this is his new normal. He's been rising at zero five hundred for weeks now. Tony would call it excessive if he knew about that and the way Steve tries to fill his schedule to the brim not to think, not to miss him.

It's been weeks since he stood in front of Tony, an invisible wall keeping them worlds apart. Sometimes he can still feel the tingle of the energy field across his palm, and if he closes his eyes, it's easy enough to think of it as the heat radiating from Tony's body instead. He remembers how he tried to hold him and ended up grasping nothing but air, and all at once, he aches for it.

His fingers flex on their own accord whenever they talk. All he can see on the screen are curves rippling with sound and bars of varied width that rise and fall as they follow the cadence of Tony's voice, and despite the lump in his throat, Steve does his best to talk to him as if he had never left.

 

 

Getting Tony back is more complicated than any of their previous missions, but they make do. Steve can't take his eyes away from him once he's back home, afraid that he might vanish if he so much as looks the other way. What seems to have vanished, however, is the easy rapport they used to have even when they were apart. They fidget around each other, moving in lines that don't quite touch. The rest of the team only exchanges looks.

Steve decides that enough is enough and goes looking for him. He finds Tony on the balcony, eyes turned to the sky. There are tall glass walls separating them, and briefly, Steve thinks of shattering them until they're nothing but shards on the floor.

He gets a grip on himself and steps outside.

"Cap," Tony says without looking at him.

"I thought you might be here," Steve says.

It takes a few attempts to resume talking as they did in the past, but once they do, everything flows. Steve asks about life on the other side, and Tony lists the peculiarities of keeping track of time in a world that doesn't have such a concept to begin with. He tells a joke next, but something's different. He's making light of it all the way he sometimes does whenever Afghanistan comes up.

In fact, when Steve looks down, he notices that Tony is gripping the railing, and all of a sudden it's easy. He takes his hand in his, drawing circles on his skin. The moment is finally here and it's the most natural thing in the world.

When Tony turns towards him, Steve holds his other hand too. Now there's no mistaking it. Tony's lips curve just slightly as if he were trying his best not to break into a full smile. Below that, hope.

Steve Rogers, known for jumping first and asking questions later, takes a plunge and pulls Tony close.

**Author's Note:**

> Same fic I posted on [Tumblr,](https://erdesque.tumblr.com/post/161804541787/3-days-left-until-avengers-assemble-season-4) except that I couldn't think of a title back then. The title comes from Etta James' signature song, of course.


End file.
